


Solstice

by Tenshiryuu



Series: Snowflakes and Shadows [4]
Category: Rise of the Guardians (2012)
Genre: BlackIce, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-21
Updated: 2013-12-21
Packaged: 2018-01-05 10:53:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,530
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1093028
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tenshiryuu/pseuds/Tenshiryuu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The longest night of the year is the perfect occasion for cold and darkness to become one.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Solstice

The hiss of a sword slicing through frigid air was the only sound to be heard in the still Winter evening. Early stars began to blink into existence in the darkening sky, peeking out from between silver-gray clouds tinged with the faintest pink remnants of the setting sun. Snow lay on the ground, beginning to take on the magical blue hue that often accompanied the onset of night. Pitch Black stood in the middle of a frozen clearing, a sword of Nightmare sand glittering in his hand, quicksilver eyes bright and focused.

Ever since the battle with Mab the Winter Queen, he had taken to using a sword again. The scythe of the former Pitch Black had been too clumsy and inelegant. He'd wielded a sword once, many thousands of years ago when he'd been a Roman general. The Shining General, Kozmotis Pitchiner. Now, as the Guardian of Courage, the weapon felt right again. He went through his old paces, swinging the blade in precise arcs, now stopping, spinning on his heel to counter imagined attacks. It was an elaborate, graceful dance with invisible partners. He would have enjoyed the company of a real opponent, but Jack Frost was nowhere to be found.

The frost spirit had flown off earlier in the day to unleash the first real storms of the season, leaving Pitch to train alone in the midst of his handiwork. The Nightmare King had been fond of Winter before, but now he absolutely loved it. Why practice in his lair when he could be out here? He could walk beneath the Moon's gaze now, and truly enjoy the night. He didn't have to hide from the starlight anymore.

This evening marked the Winter Solstice, when the season of ice and cold officially began and night outlasted day. It was a time that held great power for him, and he felt energized. His Nightmares would have extra time to work tonight, and the Guardians would not interfere. They understood now that fear gave birth to courage. Like Wonder, Memories, Hope, Imagination, and Fun, Fear had its place. Pitch had always know that of course, but he had forgotten its most important purpose, and had lost his way. No longer. After millenia of fighting for his very existence, his world had finally fallen into place. He had believers. He had a purpose. He had his daughter. And now, he had Jack. He had a family.

Pitch's thoughts drifted to a pair of sparkling azure eyes beneath an unruly mess of snow white hair and salt-and-pepper brows. He pictured the Winter sprite's graceful form as they had sparred the previous day, remembered how light he was on his eternally bare feet. Jack had great skill with his staff, and he knew a thing or two about fighting. He used a kendo-based style, but had very little real training. His reflexes were excellent, and he moved like lightning, though he was not yet what Pitch could consider a true warrior.

He needed a great deal more training, and Pitch was going to make certain he received it. There was no telling what other spirits would come after the little snow sprite now that he was a Guardian. They had been fortunate with Mab, she had not been allowed time to regain her full power. There was no guarantee of that luck in the future. Pitch believed in preparing for every situation.

Jack, however, had different ideas. Namely snowballs to the face. Pitch lowered his blade, gazing at the snow-covered trees surrounding him. It was difficult to focus on imagined foes when visions of Jack's pale, wispy frame were dancing through his mind. The landscape around him did little to change the course of his thoughts. Shades of black and ethereal blue colored this hibernal world. Cold and dark, coming together to form an arctic harmony. They belonged together. A few snowflakes began to drift through the chill air. He caught one, watching the delicate shape linger for a moment against his dark, rutted skin before melting away. Their beauty was fleeting, but Pitch had one that was eternal.

He thought of that alabaster flesh, and how refreshingly cool it felt against his own. More often now he'd found himself thinking about how Jack would look if there was nothing to interfere with that pale, luminous skin. How Jack would look laid out on his bed, snow-white against night-black sheets. He wanted it, _oh how he wanted it_. Pitch had been taking it slow though, his own uncertainty curbing his actions. It had been so long since he'd been with another. Not since Emily Jane's mother, and that had been thousands of years ago. Thanks to the Fearlings and shadows that had controlled his life for countless centuries, trust wasn't his strong suite. Jack was the first to earn it in all these long years.

He didn't want to do something stupid and scare Jack off. That thought was never far from his mind, because that's what he did. He _was_ fear. Fear drove people away. Another snowflake landed on his nose, and he brushed at it. He was Fear, and he was also Courage. When it came to Jack, though, Pitch seemed to feel an overabundance of the former and none of the latter. Jack did _things_ to him, to his mind and his body. He was awkward and cocky and an insufferable little brat, and the combination was thoroughly endearing. Jack Frost was perfect in all of his flaws.

Pitch knew he was curious, though. He could feel the way Jack would press up against him, and see that look in his indigo eyes, the look that said he was contemplating some of the same things Pitch was now thinking. He hated the flash of disappointment that he saw in those sapphire orbs when they parted ways for the night, but was afraid of giving in to it. To lay with another, no barriers between them. There was a part of him, honed from centuries of fear, that screamed to never show that kind of vulnerability to anyone. His resolve had been loosening as of late. Especially after the night he had passed out drunk in Jack's lap. It was the first time he could ever remember falling asleep in the presence of another. And it had felt good.

What would it be like to wake up with Jack curled against him every day? Along with that vulnerability came power. What would it be like to take Jack, to make the spirit of Winter _his?_ They were together now, but Pitch had yet to truly claim the other, to mark that translucent skin with tooth and nail. His left hand moved unconsciously to trace the faint raised imprint that ran along his right arm. Jack had already marked him, though the boy didn't know it.

A jagged yet graceful bolt of frost lightning wound its way up that limb, a moment immortalized in Pitch's flesh from a time they had been enemies. The mark was difficult to see because of the shadows that always clung to his arms, but it was there nonetheless. Jack hadn't noticed it yet, thank the stars. The lightning would have been bad enough, but just under his wrist was the impression of one perfect, pointed snowflake. The brat would never let that one slide. Pitch would have to make certain to leave a thousand temporary marks to return the favor of that single everlasting one.

The Nightmare King shook his head, trying to chase out thoughts of his perfect little frost sprite. His Winter Prince. Pitch lifted his blade once more. His body was starting to respond to his imagination, and he needed to nip those sensations in the bud. He was a warrior. His focus should be on his weapon, and the enemies before it, even if they were only in his mind. At least for now.

He went through a few more paces before pausing again, warrior's senses awakening. Freezing as still as a statue, the swift flick of gilded argent eyes over the shadowed forest was the only thing to give him away. He wasn't alone anymore. There was hardly a whisper in the frozen air, but Pitch turned swiftly, cutting through a snowball before it struck him from behind. He heard Jack's laugh from somewhere beyond his vision, then there was nothing but silence and snowflakes. When he wasn't running his mouth off, Jack could be as quiet as falling snow. If he was actively trying to hide, even Pitch's sharp senses could have trouble locating him. It made for good sport, but Jack could rarely keep his mouth shut for too long.

Pitch whirled as another snowball came flying out of the darkness, and he sliced neatly through this one just as he had the first. There was no way he was going to let that idiot peg him in the face with one of his frigid little projectiles. He countered several more as Jack darted noiselessly through the dark trees, trying to get the better of the swordsman. The barrage finally stopped, but Pitch knew better than to let down his guard.

“You're too good. It's not fair.” Jack appeared above him, striding gracefully along a thin bough, staff on his shoulders.

“You say that so often. I wonder what your basis for comparison is.” Pitch gazed up at him, allowing the dark sword in his hand to dissipate.

Jack's delicate toes curled along the branch, and he balanced as if walking a tightrope. The embodiment of Winter favored Pitch with that damned pouty face, the one that would get him nearly anything he wanted, before hopping down to land lightly in the snow beside him. “You could have missed one, you know.” Arctic blue eyes sparkled below dusky lids.

“Yes, because getting hit in the face by a ball of frozen water is such an enjoyable experience.” Pitch scowled. His boyfriend only smirked in response, hooking the crook of his staff around Pitch's neck so that the taller spirit was forced to lean toward him. Frozen lips pressed a little kiss onto his nose, one that turned into a playful nip before Jack pulled away, still grinning.

“How's that instead?”

“Tolerable, I suppose. And cliché.”

“Good.” Jack moved quickly, spinning behind Pitch before he had a chance to extract himself from the staff. The Nightmare King gave a strangled yelp as Jack shoved the snowball he'd been hiding down the neck of Pitch's robe. The elder spirit didn't mind cold air temperatures or snow as long as there was something between him and the element, or at least time to adjust. A _COLD, WET BALL OF ICE SUDDENLY PRESSED AGAINST HIS BARE SKIN_ was another thing altogether.

Pitch did a rather ungraceful little jig to the sound of Jack's laughter as he wriggled out of the garment, long limbs flailing. He shook off the offending particles, glaring at Jack's smug grin. The brat was idly tossing another snowball into the air. He tensed as if ready to throw it, but Pitch moved first. Casting the robe aside, he pounced on the smaller spirit, grabbing his wrists and pinning him down into the soft snow. Jack's eyes widened for a moment before traveling down Pitch's uncovered torso as the Nightmare King straddled him.

“Wow. Got you to take off your robe,” the snow sprite breathed.

Pitch gave a wordless growl, bared teeth hovering over Jack's porcelain throat in a feral snarl. The boy shivered, swallowing hard, though he didn't struggle. Pitch could almost taste the little thrill of fear that ran through that lean body. It was absolutely _delectable_. Jack's fear was the sweetest of all, and Pitch loved being in control of it. He closed his eyes, savoring sensation. The growl became a little hum deep in his throat, and his expression softened as he pressed his lips against the smooth skin of Jack's neck. He could feel the Guardian's pulse racing, and the way tried to lean into the contact. Jack trusted him now, and Pitch would die before he broke that trust, but the brat also needed to know his place. He wasn't an equal, not just yet.

Pitch sat back, releasing Jack's wrists. Azure eyes stared back at him, a mixture of awe, fright, and excitement. _Orion's belt_ , the little frost sprite looked good like this. Pitch felt his own heartbeat quicken, and parts farther south twitch in response, a reaction not lost on the spirit trapped between his legs. Damn it. He ran his tongue along his jagged teeth. Jack looked _really_ good. Icy fingers wound around his own, guiding Pitch's hands to the frost-encrusted hem of Jack's hoodie. Slowly, carefully Pitch lifted it, brushing his fingers along the luminous skin beneath. Jack inhaled sharply, eyes still fixed on Pitch's. They had this kind of contact a few times before, little teasing touches, but nothing more.

Jack made a soft, pleased noise as Pitch ran his hands up those taught sides, massaging them for a moment more before leaning in to steal a kiss. The kid learned fast, the first few times he had no clue what to do with his mouth or tongue. Or his temperature. Thankfully they'd only been frozen together twice. Maybe three times. Jack was definitely getting better at controlling his reflexes. Cool hands reached around Pitch's head, winding into his hair and holding him close, not wanting to break their connection. Jack always had the faint taste of peppermint, and Pitch could never look at the little candies anymore without thinking of him. He pulled back, licking Jack's taste off his lips, but the grip on his hair didn't loosen.

“Don't stop,” Jack pleaded breathlessly. “ _Pitch_. I want this. _I want you_.” He shifted, slender legs wrapping around Pitch's naked torso as he leaned up for another kiss. Jack's icy tongue lapped against his eagerly, hungrily, tracing over the little space behind his left fang. “Please.” He broke away, perfect teeth scraping over Pitch's lip, lowering his head to nuzzle against the Nightmare King's long neck. Pitch let out a shuddering breath as the other spirit's soft hair brushed against him, and he savored that ghostly touch.

One of Jack's hands moved to massage the back of Pitch's neck, fingers kneading into his leathery hide and causing him to growl with a mix of pleasure and annoyance. This eternal snowflake, as delicate as it was, had the power to bring all of his barriers crashing down with a single touch. Vulnerability be damned, uncertainty be damned. They both wanted this, needed it. They belonged to each other. What better time for cold and darkness to intertwine than on this longest night of the year, this night that marked the beginning of Winter?

 

“Not here.” Pitch's voice came out as barely a whisper. This wasn't the right place, not to do this properly. Jack sounded like he was about to protest, but Pitch scooped the smaller spirit up easily, staff and all. His mind was made up, and he carried Jack into the shadow of the forest. Darkness swirled around them, obeying Pitch's bidding. Jack clung to him, chilled breath gliding over his skin, fingers causing little blossoms of frost to bloom over its bare surface. Pitch shivered. Oh, how he loved the cold.

The shadows dissipated, leaving them in Pitch's chamber. He'd never allowed another soul in this place. Until now. This was Pitch's sanctuary, the one place that he had to himself, free of Nightmares and other interferences. Emily Jane wouldn't seek them out here either. Outside of his own daughter, Pitch had never trusted another enough to allow them to get this close. Until now. Until Jack. He placed the little Guardian down carefully on the edge of the bed. _His bed._

Cool hands ran along Pitch's upper arms and shoulders as the staff clattered to the ground. “I love you.” Jack's glittering, icy gaze met his. “I trust you. I want you...to be my first.” He licked his lips. Pitch reached a hand up, brushing a stony finger against those lips of dusky rose. Jack's eyes closed blissfully as he reveled in the touch, alabaster fingers rising to meet Pitch's own as he gently sucked at them. Though Jack had never said it outright before, Pitch had always guessed he was a virgin. The little Guardian had barely been able to find other spirits to talk to, let alone sleep with. He wanted, _needed_ physical contact. It was a feeling Pitch understood too well. They had both been along so long...

Jack's eyes blinked open again, and he pulled back suddenly. Before Pitch could question, Jack slipped the hoodie up over his head, baring his Winter-white skin. It was the most of him that Pitch had ever seen. The lanky Guardian ran a hand through his moonlight hair self-consciously, and attempted his usual smirk. “Like what you see?”

“Oh, _yes_ ,” Pitch murmured. Jack was beautiful, especially with the little flush of gelid purple-pink that now rose in his cheeks and ears. So, he did get some color to him sometimes. Probably in other places as well... Pitch's own body twitched again at that thought, and he sucked in a quick breath. Damn this Winter spirit. Damn the things he did to Pitch's mind and body.

He could sense Jack's eagerness, his uncertainty, and his fear as he stripped. This was a new set of experiences for the snow sprite, experiences that he both wanted and feared. He was determined to get the better of his feelings, though. Jack was nothing if not stubborn. He was one to face his fears, not give in to them. Just one of the many qualities Pitch loved, even if he refused to admit it. The younger spirit leaned forward, fumbling with the straps around his legs.

A small smile crossed Pitch's features, he knew Jack had been trying to play it smooth just now with the hoodie despite his anxiety, but the thin rawhide strips had decided to thwart him. The snow sprite cursed as he struggled with a knot. Pitch watched his normally graceful lover claw at the bindings for a moment longer before leaning in to help. Jack started at his touch, but allowed him to aid.

“I suppose this is what unwrapping a Christmas present is like.” Pitch chided.

That got him a little grin. Their gazes locked for a moment, sapphire and silver. Trying to look like he was in complete control of the entire situation, Jack slowly lay back against the silky black sheets, chill hands guiding Pitch's to the catch of his jeans, eyes never leaving Pitch's. “Why don't you finish unwrapping your present, then?” That little smile spread into his usual insolent smirk as he feigned a confidence Pitch knew he didn't have. Oh, but he made it too easy to toy with him.

“Perhaps I will,” Pitch murmured, running a thumb gently along the form that was beginning to rise beneath the thick woven material. Jack let out an undignified squeak, turning his head to try and muffle the sound in the midnight sheets. With deliberate slowness, Pitch undid the fly. Jack closed his eyes, fingers digging into the sheets and causing little spirals of ice to feather over their inky surface. Pitch slid the garments gently over the graceful curve of his hips, exposing the rest of his pale body. Beneath a patch of salt-and-pepper, he had a gorgeous little cock, as perfect and pristine as the rest of him. Pitch allowed the clothing to drop to the floor, leaving the Winter spirit stretched nude on his bed

“You really are as pure as a fresh snowfall.” Pitch breathed. Constellations, he looked _stunning_. Jack's skin held a surreal translucence, accented by a thin layer of frost that shimmered across its surface, a stark contrast to the inky black surrounding him. Pitch's eyes roamed over that body of fine porcelain, drinking in every inch of it. The dip of his collarbone that longed to be kissed, his lean chest with snowy skin colored only by the cool rose of delicate nipples. His smooth stomach, where each released breath revealed the topography of the muscles and sinew below. The peaks of his hip bones that led Pitch's gaze further down to that perfect cock now flushed with the same cool pink as his cheeks. His pale thighs that begged to be caressed, and those long dancer's legs.

Jack was _his_.

Something feral and possessive stirred inside Pitch. He wanted to run his fingers and tongue along every dip, every curve of Jack's frame, own him inside and out. He wanted to learn every inch of that beautiful lithe body, map every point and commit it to memory. He would find those little landmarks that made his lover come undone, then mark them with tooth and nail.

Jack was _his_.

His own pants were starting to feel too confining. He couldn't allow Jack to be alone in his nakedness. Pitch undid his belt, aware of Jack's azure gaze on him as he slid out of his remaining clothing. The ice sprite had opened his eyes again, and lay watching Pitch silently, breath coming cool and heavy.

“Like what you see?” Pitch's eyes sparkled as he removed the shining gold pendant from around his neck, this being one of the few occasions that would cause him to part with it. Placing it carefully on the nightstand, he turned toward Jack, stretching casually and quite comfortable in his own skin. Nudity had never bothered him, it was the idea of being so helpless in another's embrace that gave him pause. Now though, that idea was far from his thoughts. This was Jack, _his_ Jack.

“You've...got legs,” Jack managed, shifting position to sit up on his elbows. “I was never sure...before.” His arctic gaze traveled over Pitch, and his expression indicated that he did indeed like what he saw. As his eyes flicked down the Nightmare King's bared form, the faint watercolor blush of his cheeks intensified, like the last traces of sunset on fallen snow.

“Oh, yes. Is that all?” Pitch purred, sliding onto the edge of the bed next to his partner. Jack trembled, a ripple of nervous anticipation at being so close with so little between them, that Pitch drank up eagerly. He leaned in to gently caress Jack's gelid cheek with one stone gray hand, the thin layer of frost melting away under his touch.

Pitch's own skin seemed so harsh next to the other, a stark contrast of granite and porcelain. Jack looked like he should simply shatter beneath Pitch's touch, but he knew this little china doll was anything but fragile. The ice sprite's hiemal fingers brushed against the elder spirit's face in response, tracing the edge of his cheekbone then sliding back behind his ear to rub at that one particular spot he knew Pitch loved. The Nightmare King tilted his head into the touch with a sigh, argent eyes lidded. Damn it all, that felt _good_. He hated to admit it, but he had just as strong a desire for contact as Jack. To be touched and caressed and _loved_.

“No, but...” Jack's elfin sapphire eyes flicked up to his. “I...could get used to seeing you like this.” The cold, smooth pads of his fingers traced along the muscles of Pitch's neck, down his shoulders and to his arms, and then it was the Nightmare King's turn to suppress a shiver. If anyone but Jack tried to touch him like this he'd probably rip their throat out with his teeth. Jack's hibernal touch felt amazing against his heated skin. Though unlike Jack, he was experienced, it had been millenia. Pitch was almost as unfamiliar to these sensations as the little Guardian. It had been so long since he'd known anything but pain and suffering. So very long.

“What's this?” Jack traced the faint trail of the frost lightning etched into Pitch's right arm.

“You've left a lasting impression on me, boy.” Pitch stared him down, running his tongue along the uneven edges of his teeth and over the gap behind his left canine. The action caused the snow spirit to inhale sharply. Pitch knew how much the tongue thing set Jack off. “I think tonight I can repay you for it.” His fingers traveled up Jack's cheek to wind themselves through his silken hair, tugging gently to force his head back. Jack's grip tightened on his shoulders, the cold pressure only fueling his desire as he pressed his lips to that glistening throat. A little mewl escaped Jack as Pitch sucked and bit at the soft skin, breathing in the frost sprite's scent. It was pine and peppermint, sky and wind. It was Winter, it was _Jack_.

He leaned forward, pushing the smaller spirit back against the sheets, keeping one hand entwined in that moonlight hair to hold him in place as he traced up Jack's jawline with his tongue, then blazed a trail of wet kisses and sharp nips back down his throat to the juncture of neck and shoulder, and finally over the ridge of his collarbone.

The winter sprite squirmed in his grasp as he reached that spot, hissing out Pitch's name. Oh, his Prince liked that, did he? Pitch's teeth pinched gently against frosted skin, and Jack quivered beneath him, hands leaving his shoulders to curl into his hair. The Nightmare King purred. Here was one spot that he would mark for his own. He nuzzled against Jack's neck, pleased with the little bruise.

“Mine's...still...better,” Jack panted. “I'm a goddamned artist.”

“You can't even see what I did, so how would you know?” Pitch huffed, breath condensing into a little smoky puff caught between heat and cold. Jack's grip loosened on him enough that he could sit back to observe his handiwork, idly trailing his fingers down Jack's bare stomach, feeling the muscles tense beneath him. All traces of frost were gone now, dissipated by the heat of Pitch's body. Jack moaned something sinful, arching eagerly into his touch. Pitch could see how hungry he was, how much he needed to be caressed and massaged and touched. Oh, how he wanted to sate that hunger. Doing so would satiate his own.

What to attend to next? He dragged his dark nails lightly down Jack's sides, just hard enough to leave thin trails of twilight pink in their path and earn a pleased hiss from his lover. The sound became a strangled yelp as Pitch curled over him again, running his tongue over one rosy nipple as he slid his hands beneath Jack's now-lukewarm body to massage his back. He licked at the little bud a moment before scraping his teeth lightly over the sensitive flesh. He could feel the jolt of pleasure that ran though that lithe frame. Jack gave a garbled curse, blunt nails digging into Pitch's back like icicles as he turned his attention to the other rosy bud.

The Winter sprite was falling apart slowly, and Pitch was thoroughly enjoying the show. He raised his head enough to gaze up at his partner's face. Jack looked good like this, head thrown back, unfocused eyes glittering like sapphires, hair wild, chest heaving. No one else had ever seen him like this, and no one but Pitch ever would.

He turned his attention back to that chest of sculpted alabaster, blazing another trail of heated kisses down to Jack's navel before moving further south. He focused on the ridge of one exposed hip bone, clipping at it with bared fangs while kneading into the flesh of Jack's lower back with skilled fingers. The frantic tone of the snow sprite's voice told him he'd found another landmark, one that he doted upon with his teeth and tongue until it was undeniably his.

“Pitch...” Delicate fingers tugged at his hair. Jack was quite needy little Guardian. Pitch was lavishing such attention on him, and still he wanted more. Who could blame him, though? Pitch had been purposely neglecting Jack, saving the best for last as he worked his way slowly down his body.

“You've never been touched here before, have you?” Pitch whispered, running one finger gently across the tip of Jack's quivering length, teasing a little circle around the slit. Jack bucked his hips, sucking in a hissing breath between his teeth.

“Pitch...”

“So easy. I could make you come just like this.” Pitch stroked him, reveling in his lover's sinful expression. Jack's hips rolled in time with the movement of Pitch's hands, his breath coming in ragged gasps as the elder spirit caressed him from head to base. The Nightmare King's own heart began to race faster, caught up in Jack's fervor. He was an empath, and though fear was what he thrived on, he was highly attuned to other feelings as well. Especially Jack's. That was both bane and blessing tonight. His own cock was straining for the same attention he was showering upon Jack.

“Pitch,” the little Guardian moaned. “No... I w-want you inside me wh-when I come. Please...” Eyes of deepest blue gazed at Pitch from beneath furrowed salt-and-pepper brows. They pleaded with him, begged him. Jack needed him, _now_. Pitch's heart thudded against his ribs, dark blood pounding in his veins. He wanted this too, more than anything. To take his beautiful Winter Prince once and for all. He wanted to feel the tightness of Jack's body around him, hear those ragged cries as he fucked him until they both saw stars. To see what his perfect little ice sprite looked like when he was wholly undone. “You truly desire this?”

“Yes,” Jack breathed. “I...need it. I need you.”

Pitch's gaze lingered on those azure eyes as he ran a hand along the curve of one porcelain hip. He nodded then, and rose, one hand remaining on his lover's hip to stifle the soft protest. Without breaking that single point of contact, Pitch stretched an arm to reach the dresser next to the bed and retrieve the little bottle within one of its drawers.

“You _have_ been planning this.” There was a touch of wonder in Jack's breathless voice. He wasn't so far gone that he couldn't appreciate Pitch's foresight.

“Perhaps. I like to be prepared for any and all situations. You should know that by now.” Pitch returned to the frost spirit's side, placing the bottle next to him and gently shifting his legs toward the edge of the bed. He leaned over his partner to plant a gentle kiss against his cool lips, though it was much sloppier than the previous ones. Damn, he was losing himself too. One final time Pitch ran his hands down the entire length of Jack's body, starting at his neck and moving down over his shoulders, dragging his thumbs over those dusky nipples and across his ribs, then continuing along his hips. Jack shuddered with pleasure.

Carefully spreading the Winter spirit's slender legs apart , Pitch settled his body between those perfect, cool thighs. Jack trembled around him, equal parts fear and desire. He was completely exposed and vulnerable, and he trusted Pitch enough to be so. That thought turned Pitch on more than anything else.

He stroked Jack's hips in soothing little circles, massaging his inner thighs with his thumbs. The pale boy hummed in pleasure, some nervousness fading. Pitch continued stroking him a few moments longer before pausing to coat his fingers with the fluid from the little bottle. He curved over Jack's prone form, pressing fevered lips against the dip of his chest as one hand slid down his straining length, palming his balls and caressing his entrance with slick fingers. Jack's muscles tensed around him at this new sensation, and Pitch whispered gentle encouragements, tracing along the cleft of his ass. He continued with gentle strokes and slight pressure until Jack was relaxed enough to proceed.

The frost sprite choked back a ragged cry. He bit at the knuckle of one translucent finger to stifle the sound, his other hand fisting into Pitch's hair as the elder spirit pressed inside for the first time. He was cool, and tight, and eager.

“Good boy,” Pitch purred. With his free hand, he pulled Jack's fingers away from his mouth to intertwine with his own instead. “No, I want to hear you now. None of that.” He searched Jack's face, taking in the expressions that flashed across his sunken features as he was invaded for the first time. Pain, confusion, bliss, and _need_. A deep, carnal need that stirred Pitch's own body to life. Jack bit his lip, trying unsuccessfully to keep a whimper from escaping. “Pitch...”

“Can you feel me?”

Jack nodded, fingers tightening around Pitch's.

He worked Jack carefully, testing the way the sprite's body responded to each touch. He pressed another finger in, and Jack moaned “ _Yes_. Good.” The grip on Pitch's hair tightened, and the little burst of pain was refreshing. Jack was warmer now, enough that no more frost blossomed beneath his fingers. Pitch continued to stretch him out, slowly and reverently. “You're still too tight. I don't want to hurt you.”

Jack mewled and rolled his hips against the pressure of Pitch's touch as he stimulated that little spot deep inside him, feeling it begin to react. A few more moments of gentle fingering, and he was nearly ready.

“Pitch...want...you.” Jack panted, sapphire eyes pleading. “Need you. P-please.”

Pitch sucked in a breath through jagged teeth. That desperate, raw voice was going to be the death of him. Jack needed him, and he would do whatever his Winter Prince commanded. Pitch withdrew his fingers carefully, guiding himself inside the ice sprite's slicked entrance in their place. Jack arched into him as he clawed feebly at Pitch's shoulders and back. His chest heaved, and his voice was urgent. Pitch curled his body over the smaller, prone form, pressing himself further inside as Jack's slim legs wrapped around him, holding him in place.

Pitch was acutely aware of every slight sensation, of the movements of Jack's body around his cock, of every twitch of his muscles, of the blunt nails that scraped at his dappled and scarred back, and the chill breath that came in harsh bursts against his neck. He felt Jack's rapidly beating pulse, and heard the soft noises that he tried to bury in Pitch's granite skin. They were finally one, cold and dark.

He started with slow, careful thrusts, observing how his lover responded. Jack clung to him with all four limbs, urging him on breathlessly in those brief moments where Pitch's tongue wasn't filling his mouth. It felt so _right_ , being this intimate. Sharing every breath, every heartbeat. It was perfection.

“More. Gods, Pitch...n-not enough. Pitch. F.. _Fuck_.”

It was the first time he'd ever heard the other Guardian swear like that, and it was arousing. As if he wasn't at his height already. Pitch's tempo increased, and he tried to strike at that ecstasy-inducing little spot inside Jack with each thrust. His lover's voice told him he was succeeding. Pitch lowered his head, reflexively biting at Jack's neck, running his tongue along the warmed flesh. Jack gave a hoarse cry, tightening his grip on Pitch's torso. They were both losing control. How Jack had even held on this long, he didn't know.

“Just a little more,” Pitch gasped. He could feel himself getting closer. His muscles tensed, and his thrusts became more erratic. Jack's hips bucked against him hungrily. Pitch fumbled to extract Jack's hands from around him, pressing those pale wrists back into the sheets and sliding his fingers up to entwine with his lover's.

“I c-can't. _Pitch_.” Jack gasped brokenly. He was close, they were both so close. Hearing his lover utter his name in that tone, so full of need and desire, was enough to send Pitch over the brink. The pressure that had been boiling in his abdomen began to overflow, and his grip on the snow sprite's fingers tightened. He managed to break one hand away, sliding it between them to grasp his lover's cock, working over the length of it with a few swift gestures to aid in his release.

A wordless, ragged cry tore from Pitch's dark lips as he climaxed, spasms of white-hot pleasure shooting through every inch of him. It was like nothing he could remember in his long existence. No one had ever made him feel this good before, this lost in himself. Only his little Winter Prince. He leaned into Jack with a shudder, taking in his scent and his voice and his _everything._ Jack was his world. He couldn't focus on anything else except Jack, beneath and around him. The frost sprite's body convulsed in tandem with his own, cool seed splattered against their intertwined bodies as his lover screamed his name again.

Spent and shaking, Pitch collapsed against Jack's glistening, shuddering frame. He draped himself over the smaller spirit, satisfied beyond words. The elder spirit could do little more than bury his face against that cool, pale neck and gasp for breath. After a few blissful moments, Pitch shifted just enough to carefully remove himself, whispering out a gentle apology at Jack's ragged sob before relaxing against him once more. He found Jack's fingers again, sliding his own between them. For several minutes the two simply lay together like that, breathless, hearts racing one another as they basked in the afterglow. There was no sound except for the ragged hiss of their breathing.

When enough of his senses had returned to him, Pitch struggled to sit up. Jack protested weakly as he pulled away to fumble around for something they could clean up with. Like the lube, Pitch had enough foresight to keep some shadowy scraps within easy reach. Jack hissed like an angry cat as Pitch brushed against his too-sensitive flesh, but he was too worn out to do more than glare.

Once he'd determined they were in decent enough form, Pitch slid back onto the bed, pulling his exhausted lover up into a more comfortable position against the pillows. Jack curled around him, head resting against his shoulder, Winter-pale and perfect and _his_. Pitch wrapped his arms around the smaller spirit, snaking long fingers into that moonlight hair to massage the spiral where it grew out in every direction, causing the little Guardian to hum sleepily.

It felt right, having Jack here next to him, their scents blending into one. The frost sprite felt as if he belonged at Pitch's side, his head fitting comfortably in the crook of Pitch's neck, the curves of his body complimenting the Nightmare King's own. They really were made for one another, cold and darkness. And here, on the longest night of the year, they lay as one. The Solstice marked not just Winter's start, but the end of hundreds of years' worth of loneliness and sorrow. As liquid silver eyes disappeared below darkened lids, Pitch could ask for nothing more.

 


End file.
